


Why Trying To Sneak Out At Night Is A Just Plain Stupid Thing To Do: A Novel by Prompto Argentum

by MagitekUnit05953234



Series: It's Not a Literal Novel [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Awkward Romance, Because I wrote my own lore, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not a doctor folks, Implied/Referenced Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interlude, M/M, MT related issues, Not My Best Work I'm Not Going to Lie to Yall, POV Second Person, Pulled from Episode Prompto and it doesn't actually happen, Self Confidence Issues, Speech Disorders, Xenophobia, fake languages, fantasy slurs, gladnis is established, magic injury, the promptis and ot4 are pre-relationship, they're trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: You must be the most idiotic person who has ever lived.





	Why Trying To Sneak Out At Night Is A Just Plain Stupid Thing To Do: A Novel by Prompto Argentum

**Author's Note:**

> So... this isn't quite the sequel I promised and I'm sorry for that. This is honestly more of an interlude since it's not really plotty at all and just deals with Prompto's emotional state and also the beginnings of some sweet sweet awkward romance (get it together boys!!)  
> Will a real sequel come? Eventually— but I gotta get my stuff together first. I'm starting classes back up in 2 days so I'm not sure what kind of writing time we'll be looking at for the near future. I'll try my best!  
> By this time Prompto's issues with speaking are getting much better and the magical effects are slowly receding. He'll be alright soon! He mostly uses the names he had to start using in the first fic (Ex: Sky for Noct) out of habit rather than necessity. There is still some Gralean dropped in here and there so as before, translations are down below.  
> (Note: The bulk of this fic has been sitting in my google docs for ages and is very rough. Very dusty. No beta, as usual)

You must be the most idiotic person who has ever lived. Truly, it’s  _ astounding  _ how stupid you are. You  _ know _ that going out at night is a horrible idea, and yet you did anyway. Why? Well… that’s a pretty stupid thing, too.

You felt off all day yesterday. You’ve had that sort of problem on and off since your brain decided to finally dump a ton of your bad childhood directly into your consciousness after a decade or so of repressing and forgetting, but yesterday it was exceptionally  _ fun _ .

Every time you spoke, you had to stop yourself from calling your friends “sir.” You tried to stay quiet. Most of what came out your mouth was Gralean anyway, so when the urge to  _ prai sin lok, 05953… _ well, when the urge to take up some  _ very  _ old habits got a little too hard to handle you just tried to let your mouth run when you were away from Ignis. Unlike Ignis, neither Noct nor Gladio had a good handle (or  _ any _ handle, in Gladio’s case) on Gralean yet so you could impulsively spit conditioned responses as much as your brain desired. As long as you could smile and shrug and give stilted fake translations when asked it was fine. It was  _ fine _ .

When the sun set and the others laid down for the night, you told them you’d be along in a minute and then that minute turned to an hour which turned into two. The fire had mostly died out but there were chunks of wood still hot in the coals, glowing red-orange against the blue light of the haven’s markings.

Your wrist itched, right under your brand. You weren’t sure if the sensation was psychosomatic or what but you grabbed your wristband tight and twisted it, trying to alleviate the irritation underneath. It only felt worse. You stared into the fire, still turning the leather under your fingers, occasionally feeling the ridge of stitching along the side from when Noct accidentally tore the band a month and a half ago. Part of you wanted to shove your arm into the fire or maybe take off your bracelet, pick up that smoldering stick a few inches from your foot, and press it against… 

You stood up and strode toward the edge of the haven with unease crawling through your chest. You hadn’t had a night like that in a little while. You were getting better. You still  _ are _ getting better. But it was bad.

In your haste to leave the fire and its temptations behind you, you decided to take a little walk outside the haven. You figured that you’d be safe if you stayed pretty close.

You weren’t safe, and now you’re here.

There’s something to be said for trees. They’re pretty cool, in all honesty. They can get so tall and they tend to be pretty sturdy, too. Aesthetically pleasing leaves. Lots of branches. Branches that can hold your weight. Branches that you are currently clinging onto, caught between your fear of heights and your occasionally wavering fear of death by daemon. You’re certainly a capable fighter but taking on an iron giant all on your lonesome would be pretty stupid.

It wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done in the past five minutes, though. That wonderful distinction goes to leaving the haven instead of just going in the tent and going to sleep.

You left your phone in your camping chair like a chump. Real smart, man. Super good. Great.

You sigh and nestle yourself further into the joint between branches that you managed to climb into earlier. You’re too nervous to sleep, what with the actual daemons roaming around just a few yards below you, so you resign yourself to waiting with your back against bark until dawn.

You pick at your wristband idly.

After a while, you take to summoning things from Noct’s arsenal to pass the time. You take out your camera first and run through the pictures, the first dozen or two of which are intimately familiar from the amount of times you’ve seen them with the rest a little less so, and delete a few from the afternoon that didn’t really come out right. When you’re  ~~ regressing into your child soldier conditioning ~~ having an off day, none of your pictures are particularly good. Not that they’re ever that great, anyway. Noct says you’re even better than the official royal photographers, but you know that’s not true. You wanted to go to college for photography but you didn’t do well enough in school to get scholarships and you barely scraped by to keep your apartment most months. You never learned any proper composition rules or photography techniques other than what you could glean from the internet and the one semester freshman-level blow off class that was the photography course at your high school. Now you’ll probably never get the chance.

You zone out while fiddling with the edges of a lumen flare.  _ 06753235 lopas on do sins loginti vas marda vo emmer morthi bumit. _ You keep your fingers far away from the panel on the back.  _ Burning, screaming, your own face melting off something else’s bones…. _

Best put that grenade away before  ~~ something ~~ someone gets hurt.

“Prompto?” You’re roused from your daze by the sound of your name being called from the haven. It’s faint. You aren’t sure how you managed to get so far away. “Where are you?”

You take stock of the daemons milling below you. There’s that iron giant idling around a few trees over and a few flans doing their thing at the trunk of your own leafy sanctuary. As usual, the flans look really squishy and weird. Gross. 

The daemons haven’t detected you yet, but they almost definitely would if you yelled back. You’re not even sure if you  _ can _ yell back right now.

You hear a few more calls of your name and suddenly something comes to you. You’ve been sitting here hiding in a tree for Astrals know how long and you didn’t remember that your gun can shoot more than just bullets.

You summon your revolver and take a deep breath, trying to draw on what little scraps of Noct’s magic you’ve figured out how to use. You never were good at the elemancy stuff like Ignis, but  ~~ ironically ~~ you got pretty good at snatching up holy magic from wherever it resides in relation to Noct’s general magic arsenal (you never could figure out how that works exactly). Never a lot, just enough for one bullet every once in a while.

Better make it count.

You spin the cylinder. When you flick it back into Calamity’s frame you press a few fingertips from free hand up to the metal, feeling that sparkling energy you had  ~~ stolen from the Crown Prince of Lucis, who do you think you are ~~ borrowed from Noct leave you and fill the topmost spot in the cylinder, ready to fire.

Hell yeah.

You begin to feel a little more like yourself when you raise your Lucian-made revolver to the sky and pull the trigger. Light bursts from the barrel of your gun, streaking above you like a firework before bursting into a holy inferno, hanging in the air as if you had pulled a star down to Eos. You rapidly glance back down to the ground to see the daemons depart, skittering outside Starshell’s radius.

The voices from the haven (because there were several now and Shiva’s tits you must have woken everyone up) rose and then fell at the appearance of the light. You swing your legs over the edge of the branch and decide to wait for the others to get closer before trying your hand against the daemons still prowling outside your sphere of light.

“The hell are you doing out here?” Noct is beside you suddenly, hanging from a sword that’s cut deep into the trunk of the Cleignan Oak you’re taking refuge in. “It’s the middle of the night!”

You shrug. “I wanted… you know. Uh… walk? To walk.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Noct repeats. He pulls himself up onto the branch beside you and looks you over in the glow of Starshell. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you hope your grin is more convincing than it feels. “I’m not sleep. Not able. But I’m okay. I’m good.”

Noct exhales in a sharp burst, pauses, then yawns. “It’s too late for this…”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Noct pulls his sword from the tree and takes hold of your left arm. “Wanna warp out? I’m sure Gladio ‘n Specs’ll wanna yell at you but that’ll probably at least wait ‘til the sun’s up. I’ll probably at least wait ‘til noon.”

“Wait,” you dismiss your revolver and turn toward Noct, placing your right hand over where his rests on your forearm. His hand, warm against your skin and thrumming with magic, feels grounding. You feel selfish to demand anything of Noct, especially when he must have dragged himself out of bed when he noticed you weren’t there. Despite this, you open your damn mouth anyway. “Can we… sit? Loginti? For… yeah. Here?”

Noct nods without a moment’s hesitation, summons his phone, and types out a quick message with one thumb. Probably to Ignis. “It’s pretty dark. Starshell will run out soon. Just so you know.”

“I know,” you muster up what courage you have and lean into Noct’s side. All thoughts of what lies under your wristband and in your memories have been pushed away by the sheer power of Noct’s presence. You almost feel like you could be back in Insomnia, sneaking out at night to meet up in the botanical park by the Citadel before buying ungodly amounts of junk food on Noct’s dime and eating it all in the alley between the convenience store and that one cheap ramen shop Ignis always pretended to not like going to. It was never really a good idea to walk through your neighborhood at night, but you always would to go see Noct. It helped that sometimes those junk food excursions would be the only source of food for the next twenty-four hours. Things like your eating situation were sketchy a lot, especially when your parents just plain stopped sending any money to you at all and you hadn’t yet discovered just how far you could stretch a paycheck from an after-school job. It doesn’t stretch very far, as it turns out. 

Anyway, those were good nights. You feel like it could be one of those, maybe.

You pull your right arm away and move your left just enough that Noct lets go of you. In a fit of impulsivity, you then grab his hand and twine your fingers with his, just like what he did on that roof in Old Lestallum right after everyone found out about your magic-induced brain dysfunction.

Noct doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes your hand twice in quick succession. You squeeze back. 

You sit and breathe. 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Noct says.

You remember the way Noct looked at you when you walked up to him on the first day of freshman year and introduced yourself like he was someone of no consequence. Like he was just another kid in a sea of kids heading into the school.

“Me too,” you reply.

When the two of you finally end up back in the haven, you can tell that Ignis isn’t asleep. He’s doing a very good impression of rest, but you got the feeling that he’s been waiting up to make sure  ~~ Noct only Noct ~~ you two got back in one piece. Something in your chest feels very warm.

You sleep between Noct and Ignis, and in the moments before you drift off into unconsciousness you swear you hear Noct say something to Ignis. Something that has your name in it. Ignis replies in tones barely above a whisper. Someone’s fingers run through your hair. You don’t dream.

You wake up before Noct and Gladio (who has rolled over in Ignis’ absence to end up pressed against your side). You emerge from the tent quietly to see Ignis dozing in a camp chair with a book half-closed on his lap. His glasses are barely avoiding sliding off the end of his nose, and his cheek is squished from where he’s propped his head up on his hand.

“No way…” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Ignis sleep outside the tent or a bed before. It’s really weird. What’s weirder is the book he seems to have been reading before drifting off:  _ Gralean Essentials: Grammar and Vocabulary Drills for the Intermediate Student _ .

After a moment’s hesitation, you reach out to touch Ignis’s free arm. You shake him lightly, more a push and pull on the flesh of his shoulder than a proper wake-up call. It’s enough for Ignis’s eyes to flutter open, his hand coming up reflexively to adjust his glasses.

“Bona solart,” you say not out of necessity, but just because you can. “Hey, Glass.”

“Apologies,” Ignis stiffens as he sits up, eyes flicking to the book on his lap. He slides a hand over the cover. “I never fall asleep like that.”

“Long night,” you smile, and it feels real enough for once. “What are you… book?”

Ignis clears his throat and his cheeks redden a little. He uncovers the book, stands, and holds the guide out to you. “I figured I could brush up on my Gralean. It seemed practical.”

“Thought you were…” The word you’re looking for eludes you like a cactuar chugging energy drinks. You grab the book and flip through the pages. “Thought you were good? Good at it. You know. Already?”

“Not quite,” Ignis adjusts his glasses once more, his long fingers momentarily obscuring his eyes. “I learned Gralean during high school, though the courses were rather lacking. I forgot most of it after graduation. I never found the time to pick it back up during college, though I likely would have been called on to do so by the Council sooner or later.”

“Oh,” you flip through the pages until you find one heavy with illustrations of food. Kiwick. Lurays. Docruens. “Why… uh. Why do you… now. Gralean?”

Well, that’s probably one of the more fractured sentences you’ve said lately. Ignis, ever-unruffled motherfucker that he is, accepts it as you go. 

“I may have decided to take the initiative to re-learn Gralean once I noticed you substituting Gralean for Lucian,” Ignis’s voice is as smooth as it always is, but there’s something under it that makes you feel warm, like when Noct leans against you during rounds of King’s Knight or when Gladio grins after you stick a landing during a link strike with him. “I didn’t want you to have no one to talk to, and seeing as I was the only one out of Noctis, Gladio, and I with a foundation in Gralean —shaky though it may be— it seemed right to learn it once more.”

“For me?” Your mouth is a little dry. You swallow.

“Of course,” Ignis looks at you over the frames of his glasses. “I could hardly let you suffer alone without a soul to converse with freely.”

“I don’t…” You feel the urge to fiddle with your wrist again, but your hands are full with Ignis’s book. You settle for flipping through more pages. “You did work. A lot. For me.”

“It’s hardly been a strenuous endeavor, and I don’t regret a second of it,” Ignis scans your face and seems displeased with whatever he finds you expressing. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling right now. “I would do it even if it were difficult. I wanted to, and I still want to. Your comfort is worth the effort.”

Your brain, being the broken machine that it is (held together by duct tape and magic and string), doesn’t like that answer a lot. You are  _ never _ worth the effort. “I lied.”

That gives Ignis pause, if only for a few seconds. You see the hesitation as much as he pretends it didn’t happen. “About what, may I ask?”

“Where I learned it,” you close the book and push it toward Ignis. He takes it in a gloved hand and sets it in the seat of his chair without looking. “Gralean. Not in slums. I… well. In facility. Knew it first. Before Lucian.”

Ignis nods. “I assumed as much. I don’t mind. Your Lucian  _ is _ very good, regardless. Not a hint of a Niflheimian accent. You would never know you weren’t a native Insomnian.”

“Look like a Niff,” you now have the ability to pick at your wristband, so you do. Old habits die hard. “Bad enough. Looking. Sounding like one is… more bad.”

“Why do you refer to yourself like that?” Ignis’s voice gets even  _ smoother _ and gods help you its almost  _ soft _ .

“Like what?”

“Calling yourself  _ that _ ,” Ignis won’t say the word but he’s clearly uncomfortable even bringing it up. “It’s a slur, Prompto. Are you not bothered by it?”

“Sky and Dorowshick say it,” you kinda feel like you’re throwing Noct and Gladio under the bus but they  _ do _ say it. Ignis makes an unpleased noise, so you barrel on before he brings up  _ talking to them about it _ or something equally wild. “So do I. It’s… better. Better than MT. ‘Niffs’ are… people. Lower but… people still.”

“Astrals,” Ignis’s head jerks away from you for a moment, and you step out of his space. Suddenly, something in Ignis seems stormy, like the electricity-tinged air just after Ramuh’s summoning. “Not even when you’re bringing yourself up will you refrain from degrading yourself. You’re just as deserving of respect as the rest of us. More so, perhaps than some of us.”

You can’t help but laugh in disbelief. It’s more of a nervous titter than anything else, but it still comes out.

“Shiva’s sake,” and suddenly Ignis’s hands are on your shoulders and the height difference between you has never felt so severe. “Why is it you think you are lesser than us? You are intelligent, resourceful, selfless, and so very kind. You have gone through things we never could imagine and still get up at dawn to take pictures of the sky because you know Noct likes to see it but doesn’t want to wake up for it. You have every excuse to be bitter at the world, or to bow out of our journey, or to refuse to fight yet you  _ don’t _ . You have every excuse to give up but you won’t unless it’s on yourself! You deserve every good thing that happens to you and much more.”

Uh. Uhhhhhhh. “Wow,” is what comes out of your mouth. Great job, dude. Eloquent.

Ignis is still holding onto you.

“Wow,” you say again. Your face is hot.

“Am I interrupting something?” Gladio has come up behind you at some point and you jerk away from Ignis so fast that your back hits Gladio’s chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, Gladio ruffles your hair then pushes you off to the side. “Looks like a yes, to me.”

“Come now,” Ignis doesn’t roll his eyes, but he does cross his arms for a moment which is about as close as he ever gets. “I would hardly start anything  _ interruptible _ without speaking to you first.”

What.

Ignis steps past you and makes his way to his cooking station, but not before  _ kissing Gladio  _ on the cheek.

“Oh,” you say. 

When the hell did that start happening?

Gladio shoots you a little grin. “We running this morning?”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Course.”

“Breakfast will likely be ready when you return,” Ignis begins pulling ingredients out of the arsenal. As you walk by, following an amused-looking Gladio out of camp, Ignis sends you the same look he did right before he started to chastise you. You can practically smell the ozone.

“How’s it going?” Gladio asks after a few minutes of warm-ups. “Seemed a little out of it yesterday.”

Ah. Looks like you weren’t as good at hiding things as you had hoped. “I’m okay.”

“Uh huh,” Gladio stalls and stretches his arms above his head, fingers intertwined and palms toward the sky. “That’s why you ran off into the night after we all went to bed?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “Wanted to walk.”

“Bull,” Gladio starts up a light jog in the direction you went off to last night and you follow. “It was more than just a bad speaking day, wasn’t it?”

Lying never gets you anywhere with Gladio. It rarely gets you anywhere with anyone. You’re starting to think you’re just a bad liar. “...Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gladio doesn’t turn to look at you or stop jogging or anything. He just keeps on going as if this isn’t yet another ridiculously nerve wracking experience for you.

“Can’t,” your feet finally fall into time with Gladio’s, which leaves you having to take bigger strides. You like the uniformity, even if it’s harder.

“That’s not true,” Gladio says, because it kinda isn’t. “You didn’t want to. Why?”

“It… uh. MT stuff,” you narrowly avoiding tripping over a root and just like that you’re out of sync with Gladio again. Your calves begin to burn a little.

“Yeah?” A pause. A  _ long _ pause. You’ve jogged to the opposite end of the woods and are halfway back before Gladio speaks again. “The only one who holds that shit against you is yourself. Say something next time.”

You don’t want to make promises you won’t keep so you don’t even bother replying. 

Gladio notices. “Look, none of this is your fault. You didn’t choose where you came from, but you did choose to be a Lucian. None of this is on you. You know what will be on you if it happens? You having a meltdown over that shit in the middle of a battle and someone getting hurt because of it. That’s on you for not talking to literally anyone about it before it gets to that point.”

“It won’t,” you protest. 

“You don’t know that,” Gladio slows to a stop right underneath the tree you camped out in last night. If you look really hard through the trees, you can see the haven’s smoke trail rising into the morning sky. “I’m here, you’re here, so get it over with. I won’t say a thing to the others if you don’t want me to, but you’ve gotta tell someone. At least so one of us knows how to handle it.”

Your hands are shaking. You take a breath, then two. Gladio waits.

“You guys are uh… really. Really on me…. today,” you cross your arms then let them swing back down to your sides when it feels awkward. “I just… sometimes. Sometimes I am… in the facility. Not mar. Not uh… fuck. Not for real. But it’s in my brain. All I can think, you know? And it makes me… talk. Talk like MTs. Um… act. Sometimes act.”

You can’t really tell what Gladio is thinking, and it’s getting more and more stressful by the second. He just looks at you and you look at him then you look at the ground because looking at him is getting a little scary the more you do it.

Oh shit. You  _ did _ just say that you get compulsions to act like an MT. Fuck, does he think you’re dangerous? Is that why he isn’t saying anything? Is he about to cart you off like a dog destined for the dust behind a shed? Of course, it was only a matter of time before someone finally realized just how dangerous it was to have something like you around. They played at acceptance but there’s no way they could ever really—

“Prompto,” Gladio’s hand is heavy on your shoulder and you have to fight yourself not to move away. The touch is gone as soon as it came. “Shit, Prompto, stop.”

You look up from the dirt at your feet but can’t bear more than a glance at Gladio’s face. Sometimes you can’t quite shake the memory of the way he yelled at you the first time you spoke Gralean around him.

“Don’t fucking— don’t  _ look _ at me like that. I’m not going to do anything to you. Fuck’s sake, Prompto,” Gladio clears his throat, and out of the corner of your eye you can see him look you over. “You clearly aren’t a danger to any of us, least of all Noct. You look like you’re gonna throw up just thinking about it. You’re fine. No one is about to turn around and stab you because you had a shit childhood. Just ask us for help when it’s a problem.”

As scared as you are, Gladio’s words cut through all that ridiculously well. Your breath comes a little easier, and you manage to speak. “Sorry.”

“Don’t do that,” Gladio’s pulling at the front of his shirt now, probably trying to cool off after your run as the sun rises further into the sky. “You made it though Crownsguard training, which must have been actual hell for you, in record time. You did it under Cor’s eye, and he has to have recognized you and figured out where you came from. If the Immortal thought you could handle this godsforsaken road trip, then you  _ can _ .”

Okay. Alright. Yeah, that’s… not something you ever really thought of. The Actual Freaking Immortal knew this whole time and still thought you were good to go. Wow.

“Okay,” you finally manage to look Gladio in the eyes and he’s nothing but warmth. “I will...try. And you can tell about it,” wrong. “Talk about it,” better.

“It’s a start,” Gladio laughs suddenly. “Never woulda known you had so much stuff under that comic relief act you put up. If you’d never gotten hit by that dualhorn and cracked your head open you’d still be pretending, wouldn’t you? And we’d never know.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Habit.”

“A bad one,” Gladio points back toward the haven. “Ready to go back?”

“Yeah,” and then you suddenly remember Ignis kissing Gladio. “Oh.. uh, Dorowshick? Is… Glass and you… uh?”

Gladio snorts. “Together? Yeah. Have been for ages, not that we could really talk about it back in Insomnia.”   
“Oh,” well, isn’t that… weird? It should be weird. It’s not. “You are...uh… gay?”

“Something along those lines. Bisexual, I guess. Never really put too much thought into it, honestly. I just like good people, doesn’t really matter what else they’ve got going on,” Gladio shoots you a sudden smirk, one you saw  _ way _ too much as he flirted with women during the Assassin’s Festival. “Helps if they’re pretty.”

You feel like you’ve learned a little more than what you should. You feel an urge to learn more. You ignore it. “Good. Uh, good for...you guys!”

The rest of the day carries out somewhat normally, for once. It turns out to be a bit of a lazy one. Ignis drives an hour or two before Noct begs to pull over because you had just passed the Rachsia Bridge fishing spot and Noct is dying for a wennath dace, whatever that is. You chill out at Dainse Haven, mostly passing the time with King’s Knight. During the day, you see Gladio pull Ignis aside, then Noct later, and you know they’re talking about you but you try not to dwell on it too much.  _ If the Immortal thought you could handle this, then you can _ .

When night falls, you join the others in the tent, crawling inbetween Noct and Ignis. You feel cozy. It’s nice. You dream.

You’re on the ground in front of a campfire in Palmaugh Haven, right outside Insomnia. Gladio and Ignis aren’t around, but Noct sits beside you with his head resting on your shoulder.

“Prompto?” He looks up at you through his eyelashes. “Where did you go?”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” you try to say. Your mouth doesn’t move, and when you look down at your hands you see mechanical gauntlets. Your peripheral vision is obscured by the edges of a faceplate. 

One of these type of dreams, then. 

Noct doesn’t seem bothered by sidling up to an MT, though he doesn’t try to meet your eyes again. He stares into the fire with a strange warmth in his gaze. “You know, I get why you are the way you are. I understand. I just wish I could hear your voice again. I wish I could see your face again. It’s just not the same. I miss you.”

_ I’m right here. _

You sit for a while, watching the crackling flames. Your armor feels heavier than anything you’ve ever had to carry, but you sit up straight. Noct sighs against your metal chestplate. “I want to talk to you about something.”

You’re hesitant to touch Noct with those terrible spike-tipped gauntlets, but you push him away from you a little so he can see you nod.  _ Go ahead _ .

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot,” Noct’s eyes dip to his hands, clasped in his lap. “About you and me.”

Something in the atmosphere seems to stutter. Your vision tinges blue, and you hear a high-pitched buzzing. Noct stiffens, and his irises flash violet when he turns to look at you. He reaches forward suddenly and grabs hold of your faceplate. “I want to kiss you. I’m tired of this will-we-won’t-we bullshit we’re doing. I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care about you that way.”

Unexplainable panic strikes you and you want to scramble away as Noctis digs his fingers into the edge of your faceplate, but you are unable to move as it is pried up. 

You burn in the sunlight. 

You’re dying. 

_ You’re dying you’re dying you’re dying _

Noctis presses his lips against yours and  _ you’re turning to ash _ .

You wake up. 

It’s dark, save for faint light filtering in through where the tent’s entrance flap has come unzipped a little.

What the hell was that? You sit there under your blanket and shiver. Both Ignis and Noct are fast asleep on either side, unstirred by your sudden waking. A few minutes pass before you’re able to calm down.

You’ve never had a dream like that before. You’ve had plenty where you’re encased in armor, and many more where the sun immolates you until you’re nothing more than purple-black miasma seeping into the grass. Those are nothing new. But… you’ve never had a dream like that about  _ Noct _ .

Astrals, what would Noct think?

You remember Gladio once telling you that Noct wouldn’t care about you being gay, and the fact that Noct’s never acted strangely about Ignis and Gladio’s apparent long-time relationship corroborates that but… you just dreamed about kissing him. That’s a very personal line that you feel like you’ve crossed it in a major way. Doesn’t even matter that it was unintentional.

You’ve never dreamed about anyone in that way. You joke about dreams of women and such, (you always did vastly overcompensate) but you never actually had any romantic dreams of  _ anyone _ , male or not.

And now, Noct.

You feel your face burn like it did in your nightmare. Noct is…

Noctis is something else. He is such an alluring person, isn’t he? Somehow being both sides of every coin. Impulsive and contemplative all at once. Apathetic and compassionate. Regal and ordinary. 

No, not ordinary. He was anything but ordinary. 

You remember how you felt when you first saw him. When you finally scraped up enough nerve to talk to him in high school. When he stayed over at your apartment and didn’t cast a single judgemental glance at your nearly-empty cabinets and worn-out appliances. When he just so happened to have a surplus of all the things you needed at his apartment after that and urged you to take them so they don’t go to waste. When he laughs. When he asked you to join the Crownsguard. When he sleeps next to you in tents and motels every night and cuddles up next to you unconsciously. When he first saw you have an anxiety attack at some no-name haven in Duscae and offered his support without hesitation. When he smiles. When he told you that he never wants to see you leave on top of that hotel. When he tore off your wristband and saw your barcode and didn’t even  _ care _ that you are an MT. When he holds your hand...

Fuck. Fuck, you have it for the crown prince of the fucking country and he’s asleep right next to you and yeah you dreamed about dying but you also dreamed about  _ kissing him _ ...

And he’s probably straight (“Noct’s a mystery but he never minded us,” Gladio once said) but even if he isn’t, he’s  _ engaged _ …

Oh gods, he has every reason to really hate you right now.

“Prompto?” Ignis has sat up beside you and placed a gentle hand on your arm. You turn and  _ oh his eyes are really pretty in the moonlight _ …

Oh no. Oh, hell no.You aren’t gay for all your friends who are all  _ spoken for _ , are you?

You let your thoughts stray to Gladio for a moment and… yeah. Wow.

You are fucked. Prompto Argentum, you are well and truly fucked.

“Are you alright?” Ignis whispers, his Tenebraean lilt dispersing into the clipped corners of his hushed voice.

“Hwai,” you whisper back, trying to resist the urge to just wrap your arms around him and go back to sleep. Your general sleepiness has you not even try to struggle into speaking Lucian. “Lo dorshi. Gi on bona. Sin abwoom iki dor.”

Ignis blinks, and now that you know he’s not as good at Gralean as you thought you can practically see his mind working through the translations. “I would be happy to stay up with you if you aren’t going back to sleep,” Ignis says as if it’s perfectly alright for him to miss out on what is probably at least another two hours of rest. “Were you dreaming?”

“Hwai,” you rub your eyes with your knuckles. “Bona aud mal doropt, netwa.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that last term,” Ignis admits. His hand is still on your arm. “My apologies.”

You scrape enough of your tired gay brain off the floor of your skull to repeat what you said in Lucian. “A.. uh… good and bad dream, though. Both. Netwa means… different. Like though. Different from expected.”

“A contrasting conjunction,” Ignis says, and you really hope he doesn’t think you can remember anything about grammar when you’re two years out of high school.

Ignis’s hand travels up your arm and around your back until you’re pulled against his side. “You were shivering,” he says.

You’re more than a little overwhelmed by whatever’s going on right now, but if Ignis of all people wants to get touchy-feely you’re not about to say no. You lean into the touch. It’s nice.

“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” Ignis asks, voice growing softer still. “Gladio said you and he talked as well, but you can be so stubborn when it comes to your value.”

Self-deprecation comes to you as easy as breathing, but for a moment you don’t feel it. Sure, you’re a bit of a monstrosity of nature and also you have ridiculously inappropriate feelings toward your three best friends, but for now you just feel… alright. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d almost think Ignis had an interest in you. He’s with Gladio of course, but Ignis is just… comfortable. Much more so than you ever expected he would be when you met him.

Ignis has always been really nice to you. At least, he was as soon as you cleared the background check the Crownsguard conducted (now that you think about it you wonder if Cor had a hand in making you pass). He’s careful and considerate toward your myriad of issues. He helps you with things anyone else considers inconsequential, like helping you up when you trip on air or making you your favorite food when you’re down. When you got jumped in Lestallum a few weeks ago, he was the first to seek justice as soon as he figured out what happened. He apparently suspected you had been an MT for a really long time and never said a thing. He gives you extra lemon wedges because he noticed on his own that you tend to take them from his cooking station if he leaves them out. Hell, he’s even trying to learn a language just for your sake.

Ignis is just… wonderful to you, in a different way than Noct, but the feelings it inspires are similar.

“Prompto?” Ignis clears his throat —not in a rude way, he just does it. “Are you falling asleep?”

You kinda feel like you might, especially if Ignis keeps holding you like this. “Maybe.”

“Alright,” Instead of letting you go like you expect, Ignis simply reclines until you are both laying on your backs again. Ignis’s arm cushions your head. It’s all so very tender.

What is this? You wonder what Gladio would think. Cuddling is platonic enough but still… well. You know Ignis wouldn’t do anything to hurt Gladio. You trust Ignis’s judgement. You still wanna know, though.

“Glass?” Your voice is more exhale than sound but you hear an affirmative noise from the man next to you. “What… uh. What are you...doing?”

Ignis, for once, doesn’t seem to have much of anything to say. You can feel his arm tense under you. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“No,” you’re almost shocked by how fast and  _ loud _ your answer is. Noct grumbles beside you in his sleep. You make sure to tone your voice down further so you don’t wake him up. “This is… nice.”

“Yes,” Ignis turns his head toward the ceiling. His eyes (oh gods his eyelashes are really long) flutter closed. “It is.”

You don’t have another dream after that, but what just happened feels enough like one that you figure you can count it.

It’s almost like a switch has been flipped. The next few days,  _ everyone _ is more tactile with you than usual. Noct has been steadily ramping that up for a while now ever since you left Insomnia, but now it’s exceptionally blatant. He pulls himself by your hip in for selfies with you and is slow to let go. He taps your arm or shoulder or leg to draw your attention in conjunction with your name now. He sleeps against you pointedly, it seems, instead of accidentally rolling over to do so while unconcious. Gladio does the same sort of hair-ruffling and shoulder-clapping as he always does, but there’s so much  _ more _ of it. Ignis gives you potions or dishes or gil without pulling away upon your fingers brushing.

Your first instinct is to think that none of it means what you want it to.

It takes a few days for you to realize that maybe something is going on here.

You ought to think about it a little harder.

It’s kinda terrifying though, so you avoid the issue, as always.

About two weeks into this weird new dynamic that seems to have sprung up overnight, Noct pulls you aside after a hunt well done. You’re several yards back from Ignis and Gladio, who walk in the direction of the Regalia with their shoulders brushing. Every once in a while Gladio casts a glance back at Noct.

“Can I ask a weird question?” Noct’s hands are jammed in his pockets and his bent elbow hits your hip as Noct walks. Your face feels hot and your heartbeat picks up. What could he want? Has he figured it out? Is he about to  _ talk _ about it?

“Yeah,” you manage, sounding only mostly strangled.

“What’s the deal with your eyes?” Noct asks, and for a moment you’re dumbstruck.

“What?”

“You know,” Noct waves his hand vaguely, indicating his own face. “When I summon, my eyes glow. Yours glow too sometimes when we’re fighting. Never really noticed ‘til recently.” 

“What… what color?”  _ Please don’t say red please don’t say red please don’t say red… _

“Yellow, I guess? Gold?” Noct pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and summons his phone from the arsenal. He messes with it for a moment as you walk before holding it out to you. “Here, I got a picture like half an hour ago.”

You take the phone and sure enough, Noct must have stopped fighting at some point to get a shot. It’s blurred, but it’s recognizably you in the thick of battle with one revolver poised to fire. Your eyes are the same shade of yellow you see when you find just that right opening for a crackshot. That’s… unsettling. You knew that your vision in battle —guns blazing gold, weak points aglow in a sickly violet— wasn’t  _ normal _ , but you’d hoped it wasn’t outwardly visible in any way. You don’t remember the other units in training ever having that same glow.

“Oh,” you look at yourself more. Your mouth is open in the photo, so you must have been saying something, but your face is remarkably blank otherwise. “Um… it… it’s an MT thing. I think.”

You push the phone back into Noct’s hands. He looks at the picture once more before banishing the device. He seems remarkably unbothered  ~~ as he always seems to be ~~ by this development. “What does it mean? How does it work?”

“I don’t know,” you accidentally catch Gladio’s eye during one of his backward glances, and he smiles before turning back around. “It’s… like… chopt,” and there’s that good habit of dropping Gralean into sentences. Hey buddy, where’ve you been?

“Don’t know that one,” Noct admits, as if it’s a surprise. You aren’t sure he’s picked up any Gralean at all except the cusses you showed him a few days ago.

A little bit of frustration wells up in you. You’ve been doing really well lately when it comes to speaking, but here and there problems with words or phrases just crop up and it’s awful. When (you refuse to think the word  _ if _ ) this all clears up entirely, you’ll never take your words for granted again.

“Hey,” Noct does one of those  _ hand touches _ again where it could be  _ totally accidental _ that his fingertips brushed yours but you’re almost certain it’s not. “You don’t have to talk about it, you know. I was just wondering. Never seen anyone but me or my dad with eyes like that. It was cool.”

“It’s uh, not the same,” you say. “It’s not like you. Not… god magic. It’s not good.”

“It could be,” and Noct is just  _ so nonchalant _ in how he picks apart every negative thought you’ve had since the walls holding the past back in your mind finally crumbled away. “You act like everything different about you is bad, but it’s really not. It’s helpful as hell, man. Doesn’t matter where it came from. If you’ve got little reticles in your eyes or you can speak a different language or you can pick up any imperial weapon and use it? That stuff isn’t bad. You just decided it is. I have no idea what you have going on in there. None of us do, probably. But that doesn’t mean any of that is ‘not good.’”

You swallow hard.

“I care about you,” Noct blurts out. When you whip your head up to look at him, he seems just as shocked as you feel. He isn’t exactly the type to just flat out state his feelings and yet here he is. “I mean, we all do. And it seems like you don’t, I guess. Care about you. And that’s…  _ that’s _ not good.”

“Sorry,” you worry at your bottom lip.

“Don’t apologize,” Noct snaps back into his typical semi-aloof state, and nudges you with his elbow. “Just work on it, okay?”

“Okay.”

You’re almost back to the car when Noct clears his throat. “So, we’ve kinda been talking.”

You can’t extrapolate the meaning of that from Noct’s tone or his face and that’s a little scary. It’s almost the air he used to get when he’d have to do live interviews, and he was doing everything he could  _ not _ to show what he was really feeling about the situation. What’s suddenly got him so torn up?

“We?” You ask, because you aren’t quite sure what else to say.

“I mean,” Noct makes a vague gesture to himself, then to Ignis and Gladio, who are still a ways ahead. “Us. The three of us.”

Ah. Some decision has been made without you. That’s… not terrifying at all.

“What...what about?” The question comes out as little more than a whisper, sudden nerves strangling your volume.

“Well,” Noct takes a moment. You can’t remember the last time you saw him struggle to pick out words like this. “We were wanting to ask you something. Together, you know? About all of us. Together.”

It can’t possibly mean what you think it does. It can’t  _ possibly _ .

“Ask me what?” Your heart pounds in your throat.

“We know that there’s a lot of issues with this,” Noct says. “And that you’re dealing with a lot right now. But we were wondering if you’d like to give something a try? It’s fine if maybe we all aren’t reading the room right but Ignis is like ninety percent sure that we are.”

“Wait—”

“Don’t feel obligated to say yes just because it’s me or just because it’s us or because you don’t wanna feel left out because we wouldn’t leave you out of the group even if you say no. We’re not going to third wheel you. If you can third wheel in a four person group.”

“Noct—”

“I’m not doing a good job with this,” Noct’s cheeks redden. He holds out his hand.

You take it.

Your past doesn’t matter. Your origins don’t matter. Your unfortunate brain and its unfortunate issues don’t matter. Not right now. You’re surrounded by friends who love you, and something big is about to change.

You think you’re going to have a very good day ahead of you.

 

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS  
> Prai sin lok: respect your superiors  
> 06753235 lopas on do sins vas marda vo emmer morthi bumit loginti  
> Now, 06753235 is going to show you what happens if you handle your weapons incorrectly  
> Loginti: now  
> Bona solart: good morning  
> Kiwick: cake  
> Lurays: tomatoes  
> Docruens: apples  
> Dorowshick: Shield (often used to refer to Gladio in lieu of a name)  
> Lo dorshi: I woke up  
> Gi bona: It’s okay  
> Sin abwoom iki dor: You can go back to sleep  
> Hwai: Yes/Yeah  
> Bona aud mal doropt, netwa: Both good and bad dreams, though  
> Chopt: target (both noun and verb)  
>   
> Follow me on Twitter [@compromisedunit](https://mobile.twitter.com/compromisedunit)!


End file.
